Chances of Survival are Always Slim
by raindropdreamer
Summary: The second Charlotte steps into Hollywood Arts, students are mysteriously being killed off one by one. Is she the next VICTIM, or is she the KILLER? Andre & OC.
1. What Started it All

**AN: I was going to publish this earlier, but then I ended getting paranoid that no one would like Andre with anyone else but Tori, and ended up deleting it. But then, I read _Fearless_ by WhatIfAngel93, saw how amazing the story was, and it gave me the courage to put this up. So THANK YOU, WhatIfAngel93!**

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First, I want to say that I'm still continuing the stories **Love Bites **and** Fireflies and Fireworks. **Whoever's following those stories, I'm so sorry that I haven't posted any up in a while. I'm just still trying to figure out what other conflicts I should bring in...

Second of all, this chapter doesn't have any of the _Victorious_ characters yet, just my O.C. I know, this may be kind of boring, but this is what gets the whole story going.

Third, I personally believe that Tori and Andre make a great couple, and I love all of the FanFics on them, but I just want to experiment with Andre and my O.C., so please no hating on my couple choices.

**Okay, I'm done rambling, so read and enjoy!**

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Chapter 1  
**"What Started It All"**

"I NEED THE FOURTH ACT ON STAGE LEFT NOW!" I called out again, increasing the chance of waking up tomorrow without a voice, which is almost always common for the stagehands. With all of the costume changes, curtain calls, and observing the acts of the talent shows from right behind the curtain...I absolutely love the stage life.

Except for the bitchy primadona that _never failed_ to show up and ruin my whole night. Gigi Hollins was one of them.

"AWWWWW!" she exclaimed with her usual voice that was so high-pitched, I was surprised that dogs weren't the only ones that could hear it. "Brad is sooooooo SWEET!" She was rummaging through her phone, swooning at the texts sent by her ignoramus boyfriend, obsessively raking her pale fingers through her chocolate-colored hair. She was purposely standing a foot away from me so that she could boast about what I didn't have.

"I'm sorry, you know how boyfriends are, Char- Oh! That's right, you don't!" I'll admit, I've never had a boyfriend before, but I was in no mood for GiGi to throw it in my face.

"Grow up," was all the comeback that I could think of at the moment. "Maybe I don't _have_ one, because I don't _want _one."

"Don't _want _one or can't _get_ one?" she smirked. At that comment, I was dangerously close to wrapping my fingers around her throat before I saw Ms. Jamal, the producer, shoot me a threatening look causing me to pull back.

"So, Charlie," she exclaimed with her nauseatingly sweet and ridiculously high-pitched voice. "I heard that the Principal of Hollywood Arts is in the audience tonight. Probably looking for potential students."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Hollywood Arts High School was an elite performing arts academy in Los Angeles. Once the students graduated from there, they were immediately thrown in the land of the rich and famous, playing in huge movies, composing million-dollar musicals, blah blah blah...

To even be _considered_ into the school, you needed to be talented, gorgeous, and, from what I've seen... ultimately conceited.

"So?" I replied to her.

"So, right now, you have the privilege. 'cause right after he sees _my _dancing, I'm sure to be the next..." she stopped for what she thought was a dramatic pause," ...Tila Tequila!"

I stared at her, wondering if brown was her natural hair color. "Gigi, Tila Tequila's not a dancer, she's a _singer_."

"Whatever, same difference." She stretched down the skirt of her ridiculously skimpy costume. "As much as I love to sit and chat with school rejects, I have a performance to get ready for." She smirked, and began to walk downstairs which led to the dressing rooms under the stage, but before she did, she gave me one last look. "You know, maybe they'll pick _you _to be a new student, too."

I was shocked by what seemed to be a compliment coming out of the mouth of the stage brat. "Really?" I replied skeptically.

"Yeah. I heard that their next play is going to be _101 Dalmatians, _and I think you'd be perfect at playing one of the dogs."

From hearing her sick little laugh, I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, and my fingers inching toward one of the jagged sword props on the table beside me. Figuring that she wasn't worth it, I came up with a new approach.

"No, I think _you_ should go for the part." I said as sickeningly sweet as she did. "After all, you have so much more experience in playing a _bitch_!"

The look on her face made me want to die laughing.

About 3 seconds after she stormed downstairs, I, along with the rest of the stagehands and possibly the rest of the audience, heard an earsplitting crash and the sound of a girl wailing in pain.

My heart stopped at the sound of it. "Not again..." I said to myself, my voice shaking.

I ran underneath the stage, practically tripping over each steps, and sprinted through the maze of underground hallways that the screams were leading me to find...

"Oh my God..." was all that my voice could hiccup out once I saw Gigi, laying on the cement ground, with a wet, dark red gash in her left leg.

All of the stagehands and performers were crowding around her, including the other dancers in Gigi's performance, making attempts to calm her erratic bawling, and mumbling different things to each other.

_"What the hell happened to her?"_

_"Somebody call 911!"_

_"Does anyone know who did this?"_

_"Sure as hell wasn't me!"_

_"I knew she deserved something like this, but..."_

"Did anybody see what happened?" I asked to anybody who was listening.

"We don't know," one of Gigi's fellow dancer's replied. "She was going to the costume room to look for something to shove in her bra, and-"

"Hey!" Gigi screamed at her, getting her focus off of her bleeding leg. "No one needed to know about that!"

"Anyway..." the girl groaned, ignoring her. She paused to hypothesize what might have happened. "...I guess one of the windows on the shelves fell on her." I looked to where she was pointing, noticing where they put the spare glass window inserts, and saw that, not only was one of them missing, but I was standing on the broken glass that apparently had fallen on Gigi.

After the paramedics took Gigi away, I noticed that the other performers that she was with were less concerned about her and more concerned about their act.

"What are we supposed to do now?" one of them said. "Gigi was the lead dancer. We'll look like _idiots_ dancing with only two people."

"Can't we get someone else to replace her?" the other one said.

"No. Nobody else knows this dance except for-" she cut off her sentence the second she saw me standing in the doorway, and smiled as if she just had an epiphany. A Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face as she said slowly, "Chaaarrrlliiiee..."

I already knew what they were thinking, causing my stomach to turn into a knot. "No, no, and NO!"

"Charlie, come on!" she begged. "You were there for every single practice session we had. You know this routine backwards and forwards!"

"I don't dance!"

Before they could protest, Ms. Jamal walked up at the worst timing ever. "Girls were you able to find a replacement?"

They both looked at me, and I shook my head nervously and begged them not to say anything.

"Yes, Ms. Jamal. _Charlie_ agreed that she would do it."

She looked at me in disbelief. "Well, Ms. McKey, I had no idea you were...interested in this particular stuff." She turned back toward the girls. "You're up in one hour, girls. Make sure you're all ready by then." And with that she walked away, leaving me with whom I believed were destined to kill me.

"I'm not doing this!" I protested.

"You heard her." The other girl said, with a mischievous grin on her face. Before I tried to run away, they grabbed me by my legs, dragging me to the costume room, letting my nails make cat-like scratch marks on the wooden floor.

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**That's it for now guys. Thanx for reading!**


	2. Pull the Strings and Lose Myself

**I know, this one's kind of a filler, too, but it does have drama in it. Just work with me,guys!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Charlie and the plot.**

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Chapter 2  
"Against my Will"

After screaming, painful hair styling, and forcibly being squeezed into a tight, purple tank and black cargo pants, I found myself standing behind the blue velour curtain, waiting to perform next.

"You nervous?" One of the two girls asked. As if she had to ask.

"No." I whispered sarcastically. "I've performed in front of the whole student body against my will _many_ times before!"

She let out a silent chuckle. "Look, Charlie there's nothing to worry about. Gigi was our lead dancer, and she _sucked_. The audience is already expecting us to be bad."

I stared at her dubiously. "And that's supposed to help me _how_?"

"It means that you've got nothing to lose."

I could have had a great comeback, but my voice got dry as the students in front of us began finishing.

"Oh, heads up," she added. "There are...kind of two parts to our routine."

I turned my head toward her in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," her face contorted into guilt. "For the first song, Gigi had us dance as her backup. But...for the next song..."

"What?"

The other group member finished her sentence. "The song after that is her own solo."

My heart sank in panic. Gigi never practiced a solo during her sessions. "Are you effing me? PLEASE tell me you're effing me!"

"I'm sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

"I don't know her solo!"

Before she could respond, one of the stage hands her already pushing us toward the stage. When I made an attempt to sprint off of the stage, the girls were always there to catch me.

"Stage fright?" the girl asked.

"What do you think?" I snapped at her. "How am I supposed to do a solo!"

"Well, it's kind of a modern ballet piece, so I figured you'd just... improvise." she squinted her eyes, as if she thought I was going to hit her.

I was actually considering doing so. "How in the hell do you expect me to improvise. Like I said before: I. Don't. DANCE!"

Before she could respond, the backlights started flickering, and the curtains parted, revealing a really big audience. After 2 seconds of staring at them, my panic started fading away, being replaced with need to just get this routine over with, and then run home.

_Beep._

_Beep._

Those were the first sounds of Mario's "Skippin" sent an electric shock through my body, causing me to move with every heartbeat-like beep. After a while the beep got faster and faster, breaking into heart-felt lyrics.

_As soon as you came in, I offered you a drink_

_Better yet there's a bar at my crib, shawty, what ya think?_

With every single dance move I did, the others followed it, with moves more subtle and light...almost as if they _wanted_ me to have the spotlight.

_Now I'm not falling in love with you_

_But I think that that you are hat, shawty_

_See all I wanna do is let you know_

My dancing became sharper, faster... making me shocked that I was even able to move this fast. Eventually, the anxiety of the audience's opinion began to fade.

_Baby girl, you got my heart ski-ski-skippin' just like-_

The song suddenly stopped, putting my movement to a halt, and sending my confidence into a downward spiral. Time for my solo.

The girls walked off of opposite sides of the stage, despite my silent begging for them to stay on the stage.

One of them turned to me, gesturing to her right shoulder and her left hip. "The loose strings." she whispered. "Pull 'em." That was the last thing she said to me before throwing me in the shark tank.

Once the stage became drowned in a blue light, I finally realized what she meant. On the purple strap of my tank top, along with the top of my pants, was a thick, blue string. Hearing the song come up, I pulled them frantically, not knowing what they would do.

The strings released themselves from the garments easily, causing the pants and tank top to gracefully shed off me and fall to the wooden floor. In their place stood a beautiful one-shoulder, deep purple chiffon dress ending just below my knees, and accented with gemstones that reflected every lights hitting them.

The audience releasing their "WOOO"'s and "OW!"'s sent my once-lost confidence back up. Out of nowhere, the beginning piano portion of The Fray's "Never say Never" started going in my ears.

_Picture, you're the queen of everything_

_Far as the eye can see, under your command_

During the solo, I was gone.

It was as if someone besides me...someone who was actually good at ballet... was taking over my body. This someone could leaps in mid air, with her legs stretched out in perfect _jeté_ position. This someone could do spin one foot a million times without getting dizzy. This someone took in all of the viewer's applaud, not with fear, but with gratitude. This someone...was exactly like my mom.

...My mom...

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

_Don't let me go_

The second that thought came into my head, my stomach felt like it was working my way up into my throat. My mom... I did the final pose, forcing a smile onto my face, and keeping tears from spilling out of my eyes. After constant screaming of the viewers, a few lifted themselves from their seat, and their idea spread throughout the entire room. A standing ovation...

.

.

.

"Oh my God, that was amazing, Charlie!" my fellow dancers greeted me with tight hugs. Them, along with every other stagehand and performer.

Of course, it only took one extremely annoying voice to ruin my buzz.

"YOU BITCH!"

Everyone turned around to spot Gigi, being pushed in a wheelchair by her BF Brad. She still had bloodstains on her skimpy excuse for a skirt, and her eyes, directed at me, reminded me of a rabid raccoon.

"Aren't you supposed to be on your way to the hospital?" her dancer asked.

She turned her head toward her, glaring. "Drop. Dead." Keeping her quiet, she pushed herself out of her chair, putting as little weight on her casted foot as possible. "You actually let this little...Asian slut steal my dance?"

_Oh, Hell no. _I told myself. _She did NOT call me that._

I stepped toward her angrily. "What did you just call me?"

She pushed me backwards. "You heard me." She made a step, or rather a _limp_, forward. "If this fucks up my chances at getting into Hollywood Arts, you're _dead!"_

Her eyes contorted into panther-like slits. "Get off my stage... " she said slowly.

"...get away from my friends..." She bent her legs back in fighting position.

"... and GET OUT OF MY DRESS!" She lunged forward as if she was an alley cat pouncing on a rat. Luckily, people in front of me grabbed her, while she was screaming and had her arms flailing to get her dress back.

"I'm guessing this is a bad time." a deep voice behind me said. I turned around to see a 6-foot-something tall man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. His hair was a deep brunette, styled in a scruffy yet professional look, which matched his short, dark brown beard.

He faced me. "What is your name?"

"Ch-Charlotte Mckey." I stretched my hand out toward him. "And you are...?"

"Nate Ickner." He took my hand in a firm grasp. "Principal of Hollywood Arts High School. Have you heard of it?"

I really hoped he hadn't felt my hand shaking. "Yeah. Yes. Absolutely."

He smiled at my obvious nervousness. "You see, Miss McKey, I was in the audience during your dance solo..."

My heart started beating erraticaly.

"...and it's unquestionable that your talent and passion is amazing..."

My heart started going even faster.

"We could use a person like you at our school."

My heart stopped all together.

"HER?" Gigi screamed.

"Me?" I asked in complete shock.

Mr. Ickner chuckled. "Yes, you."

The look of amazement was permanently plastered onto my face. For sixteen years, I've been told _so many times_ that I can't dance. That I was wasting my time dreaming about it. Now, I had people hugging me, and people offering me enrollment to elite schools now?

_Wait_, I thought. _An hour ago, I thought that the people who went there were prissy prima-donnas. Would I be a hypocrite for going to the same school? Or worse: would I become as snobby as them?_

Mr. Ickner was still waiting for my answer. "So... is it is a yes?"

_Aww, screw it! _I told myself.

"It is most definitely a yes!"

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**I promise, I'll have _Victorious _characters in the next chapter. Love you guys!**


	3. From Scary Calls to Scared Dolphins

**Don't worry. This one **_**actually**_** has Victorious characters in it. Thank God.**

**Disclaimer: I don't, nor will I ever, own **_**Victorious.**_

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Chapter 3

Gigi's frantic screaming was tuned out by the woos and shouts of the people surrounding me. The second the show was over, and Gigi was dragged back into the ambulance, I was back in the dressing rooms, getting out of her dress and into my regular clothes.

But before I left to meet my aunt outside, my cell phone began vibrating furiously. I took it out to answer it, finding the word "RESTRICTED" flashing across the screen.

"Hello?"

I heard a hoarse, yet squeaky voice on the other line. "Did you really think you could get away with thievery?"

_Oh, what now?_ "Gigi, if you want the dress back, you just gotta-"

"NOT THE DRESS, DUMBASS!" there was a short pause. "Well, actually, I _do_ want the dress back, but...THAT"S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

My ears began ringing with the high-pitched screeches. "Okay, do you _have_ to yell?"

She ignored me, yet lowered her voice. "Let's get something straight,_ puta._ No one, and I mean _no one,_ steals Gigi's spotlight."

_Is she really trying to scare me? _"Okay, technically, I didn't _steal_ your spotlight. Your dancers basically _shoved it down my throat._"

"Whatever." she replied with a scoff. "Let me just give you a warning. Don't get too comfortable in Hollywood."

I squinted my eyes in astonishment. "Are you threatening me?"

"No," she denied in her syrupy, sugar voice. "I'm just warning you. You're little slutty, Chinese ass better watch itself. You have _not_ heard the last of me."

Rage began seeping through my pores. As much as I wanted to cuss her out over the phone, I decided to what my mom always said, and take bitches like a lady.

"First of all, you ignoramus," I said in a cool yet firm voice. "I'm not _Chinese_, I'm Thai American. Second of all, if you think that you're little pathetic rant and immature vulgarity can be used on me as intimidation, then that ambulance is sending you to the wrong hospital. Demented Hills is in the _other direction_."

After a satisfying gasp on the other line, I end the conversation with a slamming down of my cell, walking out with a reassuring thought in my head. _Well, the students can't be any worse than _that_!_

.

.  
.

I was in way over my head. The walls were the first thing that caught my eye in Hollywood Arts. They were brilliant, splashed with various colors and designs that would give you a migraine if you stared at them too long. All of the lockers had a different design on them, from art splatters to tap shoes to, what seemed to be, the tops of baby bottles, as if the student customized them on their own.

I was surrounded by the prodigies that they called students, playing instruments and dancing in the hallways like no one was watching them. Of course, I was.

After staring at everyone for a few minutes, I managed to find my way to my locker, which stood out horribly with its unadorned, gray paint over it. Taking my eyes off of it, I once again eyed all of the other students...their soul, their flexibility, their talent... which made me sick to my stomach.

Once I heard the eccentric bell ring, and saw everyone shuffle to their classes, I stood, frozen in front of my new locker. Once I thought I was alone, I shoved my head inside, letting the one thought roll into my head: _What the hell was I doing here?_

"Are you trying to hide inside your locker?" I soft, curious voice startled me, causing me to slam my head on the metal door while pulling out. I turned around, with now blurry vision, to see a girl no more than an inch shorter than me, staring at me with big, perfectly round, brown eyes.

"Because if you are, you won't fit. I should know, I tried it." She raked her pale fingers through her fuchsia-colored hair. "You're new here aren't you?" she asked me hopefully.

_Is it really that obvious? _I asked myself. "Umm...yeah?"

Her face switched from curious to ecstatic, clapping her hands nonstop and speaking a mile a minute. "Oh my God! I've always wanted to meet a new student! Well, actually, I did, cause Tori's a new student. Do you know Tori?"

"Um, no-"

"Well, she's new too! Wait, actually she's not new. I mean, she's been here for five months, but SHE"S STILL NEW! OMG, this is just like when my brother went to a new school, and he had his head shove in a locker, too! Well, actually, it wasn't in a locker, it was in a toilet. And, he didn't shove his head in there, a couple of boys did it to him, but-"

Wanting to interrupt her endless chatter, I stuck my hand out toward her. "I'm Charlie."

She took my hand. "Oh, your parents gave you a boy's name, that's cute!"

"Uh, no, it's short for Charlotte, but I-"

"Yay! I love Nicknames!" she took in a deep breath. "I'm Cat."

"Oh, like the animal."

Her voice switched from excited to offended. "WHAT"S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

Confused that she found that offensive, I responded. "N-Nothing. I-I love cats."

She went back to calm. Or calm-ish. "Me too! They're so cute-" she began walking away without finishing her sentence. Fighting the urge to just run the other way, scared, I ran toward her.

"Wait, wait, wait!" I called after her." I looked at my schedule. "You wouldn't happen to know where Mr..." I had no idea how to even pronounce the name. "Sick-o...Sick-a-wItes...?

"Sikowitz?" she corrected me, making it sound like "Psycho-wits." I have that class too! Follow me." she turned toward me. "Oh, but once you get to the door, duck."

I walked down the hallway, confused. "Why?"

She stopped at the edge of one of the doors. "You'll see." She gestured me to come forward. Once we got under the threshold she shouted, "DUCK!"

I obeyed her, dodging a pink, plastic ball that bounced hard off of the wall behind me.

"Miss Valentine!" I heard a deep, boisterous voice yell in front of me. "You're late!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she whined.

Getting out of my defensive crouch, I saw ,what I guessed was, my Improv teacher. He had a huge bald spot at the center of his head, and the hair that was left was pointing in a million directions. He was pacing the room barefoot, wearing odd-colored, striped baggy pants.

He turned to me suspiciously. "Cat, who is this intruder that you let in the classroom?"

"Oh she's a new student. That's...Cherry?"

"_Charlie._" I corrected. Mr. "Psycho-wits" looked stared at his attendance sheet. "Oh. Well, Miss Mckey, as Hollywood Arts tradition, every new student must answer questions about themselves for 15 seconds."

"Since when has _that _been tradition?" I boy with thick, curly hair and a wooden dummy in his hands asked.

"Since about 10 seconds ago." He answered. He gestured me to go up on the small, lifted stage, where I nervously dragged my feet toward. As I eyed the 30 people in front of me, I had the urge to sprint off stage and throw up. "Class, you've got 30 seconds to interrogate Charlie."

I looked at him, confused. "But it was just 15 seco-"

"AND GO!"

A blonde boy asked the first question. "What's your full name?"

"Charlotte Isabella McKey-Wang."

A brown-haired Latina asked, "what's the first thing you felt when you walked in this school?"

"'Damn, all these people are so talented. What am _I _doing here?"

She smiled. "Me too!"

A redhead went next. "How many crimes have you committed?" The whole class giggled.

"Seventeen." The look on their faces made me laugh. "No, I'm kidding. None." They sighed with relief.

After another handful of strange questions, I realized that it's been longer than 30 seconds. "Mr. Sikowitz, I think that was longer than 30 seconds."

He looked around, and realized something. "Oh, I forgot to start the timer!" I scrunched my eyebrows in exasperation.

"Okay." He continued. "Another Hollywood Arts tradition is that the new student does Drive-by improv In front of the class."

"Since when?" I asked him, wondering if he was doing this all just to humiliate me.

"Since I just thought of it." he replied, nonchalantly stabbing a coconut with a straw.

"But what's Drive-by imp-"

"You're a terrified dolphin!" He shouted randomly. "GO!"

Guessing that he wanted me to act like a dolphin, I flipped and shook around the stage, making the shaken, cute noises of a squeak toy. Despite how stupid I probably looked, the class seemed to love it.

"I'm not feeling the fear!" Sikowitz criticized, sucking the juice out of a coconut with a huge, bright-red straw.

I began jumping up and down like a fish out of water, with a terrified look on my face.

After the class looked like they'd die from laughter, Psycho-wits let me stop.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" I asked the brown-haired girl.

She smiled at me. "Sure, go ahead. I'm Tori, by the way. You're Charlotte, right?"

"_Charlie._ My friends call me Charlie." I looked at Psycho-wits, entranced by his coconut juice. "Is he always like this?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said understandingly. "_Always." _She smirked. "Andre would be making _so many _jokes about him right now."

"Who's Andre?"

The second I said that, I heard the door creek open behind me. Tori lightly touched my shoulder. "There he is."

I looked behind me, eyes toward the now-opened door to see...

_Oh. My. God._


	4. Shocks All Around Us

Chapter 4

Shocks All Around Us

**Andre's POV**

_You've got to be kidding me?_ I screamed in my head.

Layne, the school counselor, was sitting, (or hanging, whatever) in a woven chair dangling from the ceiling, about 2 feet from the ground.

"I-I don't understand." I told him, trying to keep my voice calm. He just looked at me, with apology and disappointment in his face.

Layne looked back down staring at the performance exam in front of him, with a huge letter written across it by my music teacher. "I'm pretty sure this says it all." he answered, causing me to look down on the most disgusting letter in the world:

_**C-**_

I was one of the best musicians at Hollywood Arts. For two and a half years that I've been here, I've _never_ gotten anything lower than a 94% on a test. So how in the hell would Mr. Alto give me a C- now?

"No-no" I tried to convince him. "There's gotta be a mistake. I...I've never gotten a grade that low before."

He sighed. "Look, I've talked with your teacher." He paused for a second. "He said that... as exceptional as you are, you're music lately has been lacking..." He droned off.

"Lacking what?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"...soul."

My hands began clenching up. _Lacking soul?_ I asked myself. _Since when does eating, sleeping, and _breathing_ music not enough soul?_

"What do you mean 'lacking soul'?" I asked him.

He made another annoying sigh. "I've heard you playing. I used to be able to _see_ passion and determination in your sheet notes. Now, everything is just...dry."

"And this we'll affect me _how_?"

"Well..." I hate it when Layne beats around the bush. "You know that your first plan after HA was to go to Julliard?"

My stomach churned in nervousness. "Yeah?"

"Unless you start to get your grades up...that might not happen."

My head began throbbing, and I could feel water forming in my eyes.

"P-Please tell me that you're kidding." My voice cracked.

He looked at me with guilt and sympathy. "I wish I was."

Suddenly, my vision started to blur and I began feeling dizzy. Quickly, I grabbed my backpack and headed to toward the door. "I gotta get to class." I murmured, leaving without letting him say another word.

Heading toward my Improv class, hurt began mixing with rage and self-hate. I slammed my fist into the locker next to mine, a blank gray one that no one's even used.

_My dream._

_My future._

_Gone._

I forced myself to walk toward Improv class, to ensure myself that there's _something_ to look forward to.

**Charlie's POV**

"Who's Andre?"

The second I said that, I heard the door creek open behind me. Tori lightly touched my shoulder. "There he is."

I looked behind me, eyes toward the door to see...

_Oh. My. God._ That was all that my thoughts came up with once I saw him.

I know how weird it is to use the word "beautiful" to describe a guy, but that was the exact word that described him perfectly.

Everything on his body was my newly-favorite color: brown. His thin, brown dreadlocks hung around his face, making his rich, coffee-colored skin tone pop. He had deep brown eyes, the same color as mine, but much lighter and blazing with a strange emotion. It seemed to be a mix of rage and severe disappointment. I didn't even know those two could even _go_ together.

Apparently, Mr. Sikowitz didn't notice it (or perhaps he did and saw it as an opportunity). Instead of ignoring the chronically bummed student, he responded by throwing a seemingly cumbersome object at him. As it missed his face by an inch, it slammed to the ground hard enough to make the whole class yell in astonishment. As it started rolling down the walkway, the class noticed the three finger holes inside it.

"Where the hell did he get a bowling ball?" I practically screamed, wondering how the hell he's still allowed to teach at this school.

Tori looked at me in shock. "I have no idea."

"Mr. Harris!" He bellowed. "You're late!"

"I'm sorry," he said, irritation dripping out of his voice. "Had to speak with the counselor."

"Was it good news?" Psycho-wits asked nosily.

"Nope." he replied flatly, sitting in a chair in the back row, uninterested in any more questions.

"_GREAT!" _ he yelled in joy. Confused and shocked looks appeared on everyone's face, including mine. "Having good news all the time is not only boring..." he made a dramatic pause. "...but alien-like...AAAH!"

After letting out a random scream, he threw a pair of bowling shoes out into the hall, making them slam on the splatter-covered wall.

"What was that for?" the guy holding a wooden puppet asked.

He replied calmly, "I thought I saw a beetle." He continued his class, as if nothing had happened.

"Okay," I whispered to Tori. "If he starts throwing bowling pins, I'm leaving the room."

Cat let out an over-dramatic chuckle. "I like her! She's funny." _Too bad I wasn't kidding._

_**-*-*-*-*-*-*-(# of Survivors: 10)-*-*-*-*-*-***_

I finally made it through first period without anything being thrown at me. But even through Sikowitz' lecture, the Drive-by improvs, and the conversation with Tori and Cat, I couldn't stop wondering what was wrong with..._Ugh_! I've gotta remember what his name was again. I can't keep referring to him as "Sexy Black Dreads". What if I accidentally _called_ him that?

Before I knew it, it was the end of third period, and the beginning of lunch. Hopefully, it was better than the crap they fed us at my old school. It seemed to have suited inmates rather than students.

"Charlie!" I heard a familiar voice call my name. I turned to see the voice coming from Cat, with Tori standing close by her.

"How were your classes so far?" Tori asked me.

"Well..." I tried to remember, realizing that during the time, I was less focused on the classes and more focused on Black Dreads. "History was cool. My teacher actually makes it less painful than it should be. Unfortunately, we weren't able to blow stuff up or set something on fire in Chemistry, but I'm keeping my hopes up. Still, nothing was as interesting as Sikowitz." I quickly thought of something. "Does he throw bowling equipment at his students?"

"No" Tori answered, relieving me for a few seconds. "Sometimes he throws pies." I let out a nervous giggle.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two figures in the hallway across from us. From this distance, they're faces were imperceptible, but the silhouettes of their bodies showed passionate emotions: the masculine one showing anger, and the softer, feminine one showing fear.

"So, do you want to?"

The voice snapped me back into reality. "Want to what?"

"Eat lunch with us?" Cat said, confused. "You have the next lunch, right?"

Barely paying attention, I answered, "Um, sure... You know what, I think I forgot something. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

They nodded their heads in unison, and walked off, letting me get closer to the couple in the shadows.

I know that I should have just stayed out of it in the first place. I should have just not gotten involved and walked outside to the lunchroom. Of course, I'm far too nosy to do that.

I was able to get about 10 feet from them, which was close enough to hear their voices

"Look," a broken, girly voice said. "I said I was sorry 6 times."

"Sorry doesn't cut it." The deep, accusing voice said. "You were supposed to call me last night at 7:00, and I don't hear from you until 7:30? What is that about?" He began raising his voice.

"So-something came up." You could just sense how scared she was at that moment.

"Like what? Like you were _talking to someone else!" _He exclaimed, shrinking the gap between their bodies. "Who else would you need to talk to but me?"

"_I wasn't!" _She yelled, scraping up a bit of confidence.

"It was another guy, wasn't it?"

"NO!"

He got his face closer to his. "You were planning this all along weren't you?" He grabbed a handful of her long hair in disgust. "First these stupid highlights in your hair?" He motioned his hand toward her skirt. "Now this ridiculously short skirts? What, are you _trying_ to look like a slut?"

"God, why are you acting like this?"

He took a step toward her, thrusting a finger toward her face. "Are you giving me attitude?"

Exasperated, the girl walked away, only to be yanked back by him so hard, I was surprised her arm didn't get ripped out of its socket.

"DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME!" In a quick motion, his arm was positioned above her left cheek, the palm of his hand faced away from her... as if he was about to slap her.

_Oh, hell no. _That was the only thing I remember going through my head.

"HEY!" I barked, causing them to both jerk their heads toward me in shock, with the boy's hand in its same position.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" I continued. "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TOUCH A GIRL LIKE THAT!"

Unfortunately, I wasn't close enough to see his face. He let go of her instantly and ran down the hall, camouflaged by the shadows.

I turned toward the girl. Her silhouette-like body was turned toward me, frozen from, what I was guessing, in shock.

"You all right?" I said nervously.

She said nothing. She continued to stare at me, standing completely still.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked him. _God, this was like pulling teeth!_

When I reached out to her, she backed away with a twitch. Without hesitation, she sprinted down the hall, her black combat boots clicking intermittently.

"Wait!" I yelled. She, of course, ignored me. I turned around, only to face a bunch of students, staring at me with blank expressions.

"What are _you_ staring at?" I bellowed. "I didn't see any of _you_ guys trying to stop it!"

They kept staring at me. I cringed in annoyance. "The show's over! Get to class already!"

They finally disappeared through doors and up staircases, taking their stares off of me. Finally, I walked down the hall, kind of wishing that I had listened to my first instinct and hadn't gotten involved.


	5. New Bruises, Old Faces

**I would love to apologize for taking almost a year to update...  
I would be glad to say that I'll be working on Fireworks again...  
but that would just make you spend more time on my unnecessary author's note  
and less time reading the chapter.**

* * *

_**Previously on "Chances of Survival..."**_

_"Wait!" I yelled. She, of course, ignored me. I turned around, only to face a bunch of students, staring at me with blank expressions._

_"What are __you__ staring at?" I bellowed. "I didn't see any of __you__ guys trying to stop it!"_

_They kept staring at me. I cringed in annoyance. "The show's over! Get to class already!"_

_They finally disappeared through doors and up staircases, taking their stares off of me. Finally, I walked down the hall, kind of wishing that I had listened to my first instinct and hadn't gotten involved._

* * *

Chapter 5

"You Have No Idea"

**Jade's POV**

_It wasn't my fault_, I kept reminding myself, trying to ignore the numb pain in my left arm. _It wasn't my fault_.

I was sitting at the lunch table by myself, waiting for my very small group of friends (eh...) to hurry their asses along. Thank God _he _didn't have the same lunch as us. _He_ was in the middle of Weight Lifting, and I was able to have time to myself.

I kept trying to tell myself that it wasn't my fault. That he didn't have to do that. That I had to add five more pages to my script that was due the next day, and I just couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone when _he_ called.

Slowly, the needle of doubt was injected into my brain, with a voice that kept saying, "Maybe it _was my fault."_

I should have finished that stupid script earlier. If I wasn't such a procrastinator, I could have finished it early and then picked up the phone on time. On the schedule that _he _made for me.

Then I remembered, I couldn't have finished it any sooner. I was at dinner with his family a couple days ago, where he had practically forced in my mouth every dish they had that I was allergic too. I had ended up with food poisoning for two days, so I couldn't possibly had finished it then.

But of course, even when I was sick, I was able to call him on schedule...

_GOD! Why am I thinking like this! _I told myself. _I'm Jade Freakin' West, the School Badass!_

Then I remembered a painful fact. That was the _old _Jade West.

That was back when I could scare the entire freshman class into a pile of maple syrup just by looking at them.

That was back when I ruled the school with my onyx-colored ensemble and spiked or pointy jewlery.

That was back...when I had Beck...

I shook my head out its reminiscing stage. There was absolutely no point of looking back at what I can't get retrieve. Besides, I was stuck now. I was stuck without anyone to talk to. I was stuck with these obnoxiously bright fabrics on my body

I was stuck in new chains... chains being pulled and tightened

by my boyfriend Rob Shapiro.

**Charlie's POV**

*SLAM!*

I remembered hearing a strange sound before I was knocked out. It was like someone slammed their hand on a keyboard.

I came out of my unconsciousness after what seemed to be a few seconds. My vision was blurred and my back was going against a hard, sturdy surface that I assumed was the floor. In front of me was a darkened blob that slightly resembled a human.

"Oh shit," It whispered with its deep voice. "Are you okay?"

Everything started to become clearer, and the second that I noticed signature dreads, my breath caught in my throat, only to release itself the second his hand was out, offering to help me up.

I let out a restrained "Hi" as I grabbed his hand and used his weight to pull myself up.

"Um hi," he said nervously. "Look, I... I am so sorry about that. I...I just didn't see you coming up and..."

I began to zone out of his apologetic babbling when I began to feel a severe yet numbing pain in my forehead. I looked behind him and saw the opened door of the locker right next to mine, which strangely resembled piano, white and black keys descending it. I then noticed that about five of the keys closest to my eye level were stuck, and had an indented line going across them.

Realizing the origin of my pain, I put my focus back on his apology, which he was still trying to finish up.

"...and I'm really, really sorry. Are you sure you're okay?"

After taking a while to focus, I answered him.

"Um...yeah, it's cool. Just an accident, right?" I said, trying to shrug it off.

"Of course. Do you need me to take you to the nurse..."

"No, no. I'm fine". I put on a smile, in an attempt to convince him.

"You sure, cause it's right there-"

I interrupted him with a light laugh. "Trust me, it's not the first time I've gotten hit in the forehead."

Finally noticing my attempted joke, he let out a relieved chuckle.

"However, in case you try to give someone else a concussion, I would like to know what name to report you by?"

He let out a laugh and stuck his hand out. "Andre Harris. Musician and future coma inducer."

I let out a soft chuckle and shook his hand, sending electric shocks throughout my arm. "Charlie McKey. Dancer and..." I tried to come up with a position "...current ass kicker."

That caused him to crack up, giving me time to notice how intoxicating his smile was.

After calming down, he let out a tired sigh. "Wow. You're like... the first person who's made me laugh in... ages."

I looked to the ground for a second, trying to cover up my irises from possibly turning heart-shaped. "And... what is my reward for my accomplishment?"

He looked around. "You get to... have the opportunity of...sitting next to me at lunch."

I giggled. "As delightfully cliché as that offer is, I'll have to pass. I 'm sitting with Tori and Cat.

"Well then," he turned his body slightly to the left, sticking out his elbow, waiting for me to interlock it with mine. "That makes two of us."

I laughed and walked right past him to head outside, hearing the sweet sound of fast-paced footsteps as he tried to keep up with me.

**Tori's POV**

"Where's Cherry?"

Cat's repeating question was annoying me. Surprisingly, Jade kept focusing on her salad, unfazed by her whining.

"Cat..." I said slowly. "First of all, her name is _Chaaarrrrliiiie._ And for the 17th time, it's only been five minutes. She's probably getting lunch.

She kept the worried, wide-eyed look on her face. "But what if the alien from the spring play showed up and abducted her?"

I rubbed my temples in irritation. "That was just-"

Jade put her hand on my arm. "I'll handle this," she said, in her soft yet blunt voice, and faced Cat. "Look Cat," she picked her spoon. "Spoon!"

Cat gasped in admiration. "Yay, Shiny!" she held it in front of her face, examining it.

I looked up and finally saw Charlie, laughing it up with Andre.

"Look, Cat, Charlie's here." She didn't seem to hear me, as she was indulged in her reflection on the spoon. "Cat? CAT?"

She let out a yelp, chucking her spoon away from her, making it land on a red spot on Charlie's forehead. Charlie flinched, as if the little piece of silverware actually hurt her, and fell back, where Andre was there to put her back into balance. Finally getting off her feet, she sat down, and plucked the spoon off of her tray.

"Does this belong to someone?"

"ME!" Cat wailed and quickly snatched it away from her, happy to be reunited with it.

"You guys have all met Charlie, right?"

Cat and I let out a nonchalant "yes", while Jade let out an unnecessary "whatever".

"This school is really interesting." Charlie admitted. "I guess you initiation for new people are hitting them in the head with stuff.

Andre began laughing, apparently getting an inside joke between them.

"Would you like me to give you my initiation?" I heard Jade say. I had to admit, I was shocked. Not necessarily by the fact that she's already verbally abusing the new kid, but because that was the first time in a year that she was actually acting like her sarcastic, snarky self.

I looked at Charlie, who seemed to be unfazed by Jade's threat. If anything, she looked like she thought it was funny.

"Well, if you didn't, I'd be disappointed," she returned, slurping at her water bottle. "It would mean you're not welcoming me."

"Where on Earth would you get that idea?" Jade replied in a sardonically sweet voice.

Andre decided to change the subject. "So... Charlie, how were you able to get into this school."

I decided to go along with him. "Yeah, we almost never get new students in the middle of the year."

A smile appeared on her face. "It's kind of a funny story actually..."

"Depends on your definition of funny." Jade mumbled, throwing the tomatoes from her salad over her shoulder, letting them land on the group of students behind us.

Irritation was creeping over Andre's face. "_Jade!"_

"Oh, it's fine," Charlie reassured him. "I'm starting to like her."

Jade, along with everyone else at the table, looked at her in confusion. "You obviously have a horrible judge of character."

"Well... what's character without a couple of pushpins?"

Cat and I looked at each other hopelessly confused. _What's character without a couple of pushpins?_ That seemed like something Sikowitz would say. Apparently, Jade was the only one that understood it. Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes turned into the size of CD's.

"What did you just say?" Jade asked softly. Charlie only grinned at her mischievously.

Without warning, Jade pushed herself off her seat and stood over Charlie, casting a shadow over her small frame.

"Give me your finger." Jade demanded.

As if she knew what to expect, Charlie pointed her index finger toward Jade's torso. Jade wrapped her fist around it, pulling her out of her seat and pulling her behind into the building.

"We'll be back guys." Charlie called out, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Andre turned toward me. "Okay, I'm confused as chizz."

"I second that," I agreed, "What do you think that was all about, Cat?"

I didn't hear a response.

"Cat? CAT?"

Cat cast her eyes off of the spoon that was in her hands. "What did I miss?" she looked around. "Where's Jade and Cherry?"

Andre and I both groaned, putting our foreheads against our hands.

**Jade's POV**

_This is not happening. _I kept repeating to myself as I dragged the tiny Asian chick over to Andre's locker next to a blank one. Immediately, I let her go and turned on my heels to face her.

"'What's character without a couple of pushpins'?" I repeated in amazement. She kept staring at me casually, while I was going insane. "You do realize that I haven't heard a statement like that since I was in-" I chocked on my words a bit. " -eighth grade?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know how much you hate repeating material, but-"

"_How could you possibly know that?" _I screamed, tears forming in my eyes. "You're _new._ You're not supposed to know anything about anyone at this school."

She stared at me for a few seconds, then let out an exasperated sigh. "You honestly don't recognize me?"

I much as I didn't want to admit it, I did more than recognize her. This girl's face has been planted in my brain since... the incident.

"Oh, come on. How many people do you know that are _this short?_" She hand motioned toward her frame, which had to be a least two inches shorter than Cat. My mind was still in a state of disbelief and shock.

"Really?" she said softly. "_Jadey?"_

That one word, the nickname that nobody but one person has called me, was what did it.

"L-Lottie?" I said, frozen.

Smirking, she opened out her arms towards me, and my composure, the same one that I've managed to keep up for over three years, crumbled down as I basically collapsed onto her, tears streaming down my face.

"My God, I thought I'd never see you again."


End file.
